I did not smash this clock! It does remind me of a few I did smash though.
As a teenager I went through a few alarm clocks. Each one broken after being hurled across the room while still in a deep sleep, apparently. It was the startling ring that sounded like a loud sonic boom going off in my ear that prompted this behavior. After which I'd feel very badly and mother would buy me another one. This went on for nearly three of the four years I lived with my mother during my mid to late teen years. But, just as she was considering West Bend stock options I stopped this behavior. I stopped it because I decided to grow up!
As a kid I was always wearing my brothers old jeans. I’d cut them off right above the knee, roll them up where I liked them and wear the dickens out of them. Around the age twelve Mama decided she’d had enough of my tomboy ways. Her plan was
prissy pretty gingham, floral and polka-dot pastel material for some new dresses. Lots of material, if I recall! I have hated pastels ever since.
Growing up, I was never a bread eater especially if it was slathered in butter but I would manage to be polite when served a slice and eat it, or at least a few bites. I can not say this for cornbread. As a matter of fact: I was as skinny as a rail because I ate so little of the foods offered. I must have been in my thirties when I tried Marie Calendar’s cornbread with honey butter and was surprised by how much I liked it. Now, I’ll eat cornbread any way it is fixed and have several recipes in my personal cookbook that I make for my family.
I was thinking about these (and more) things I disliked when I was a kid the other day. I was going over some old poetry I’d written when I ran across a scribbled note about “snails, jeans & dolls” and found myself reminiscing about those cut-offs. The memories made me smile and say to myself ‘You’ve Come A Long Way Baby!’